


Letters From Home

by QueenoftheHobbits



Series: Soft Thighs Series [58]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s AU, F/M, overweight reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:53:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8432575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheHobbits/pseuds/QueenoftheHobbits
Summary: You’d simply picked a name off a list, a random service man to write letters to. His name had drawn you to it...and then his letters did the same. But the war is over and meeting him is terrifying.(This is part 1, part 2 to this will come out on Saturday)





	

It was a thing that a lot of women did during the war, writing letters, mostly to men they knew or female friends who had joined the nursing corps or another branch of the war effort. Letters were a fundamental component to keeping morale high, keeping people going, and staying in contact with those you cared about. If you received a letter from Europe, the Pacific, or Africa then you knew that person was still alive, still able to write, and still thinking of you. And if they received a letter from you then they knew that people back home hadn’t forgotten about nor given up on them. 

You simply picked a name off a list, it was a nice name, it drew you in and you decided that that would be the name you’d write to: Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Some people questioned why you’d decided to write to a random servicemen, your answer was plain and simple. People needed to feel like they weren’t alone. Especially when they were somewhere ghastly and dangerous. You figured maybe letters from someone, anyone, would help with that. 

And then you got attached. His letters were charming, sweet. He always made a point of thanking you for talking to him, sometimes he’d mention things that really should have been censored by the government, things that made you realise just how hard it must have been out there fighting. Sometimes he questioned why? Freedom? America? What the hell was he fighting for...the one thing he never told you was that his conclusion was always that he was fighting for people he cared about...and that you’d been added into that bag. 

On your end your letters were rather menial in what they discussed. You’d mention the friends you had lunch with or the work you did in a little corner shop, sometimes something a little stranger would happen but overall it was very, very normal...and Bucky appreciated that. The fact that it was so normal gave him a sense of normality despite everything that was going on around him. 

You really should have seen it coming, the feelings. Of course you were going to grow attached and more than just in a friendly capacity. He was sweet and charming and his letters were always written with care. You learnt more about James, who’d rather be called Bucky but you always called him James, than you’d ever learnt about any man who wasn’t family. You liked him a lot and it made each letter more enjoyable but also more nerve wrecking because you kept waiting for the day the letters would stop coming all together. 

He always signed his letters the same way ‘with love, Bucky.’ and it was that ‘with love’ that got you every time because you weren’t sure if it was simply something he’d grown accustomed to doing or if he genuinely had some sort of feelings for you. Part of you was scared about him liking you, however, a fear that he’d meet you one day, see you, and realise that you weren’t what he’d imagined. That you weren’t like most of the other women around, you weren’t as lithe, or as tall or as elegant...you were wider, broader, softer...but part of you wanted to meet him, and part of you imagined him seeing you and smiling widely. 

Perhaps that’s why when he sent you his photograph with one of his letters, one from his enlistment, in which he looked dashing and bold and full of life...perhaps that’s why you sent a photo back. At least...at least if he knew what you looked like he couldn’t and wouldn’t be disappointed because he’d already know. 

It was a simple photo, one you’d had taken on a night out with a friend. It was a night when you’d felt amazing, your dress had been the one that fit perfectly, your hair had been pinned and styled just right, your make up was exactly how you wanted it. It was perfect...and that’s how you wanted Bucky to see you...you wanted him to see you how you felt that night. 

The next letter you received told you that he kept that picture on him at all times, in the pocket of his uniform, that he thought you were beautiful and that he wished he was there with you and not in the pit that he was in. You wished he was with you as well, safe, warm, not in a battlefield in the middle of Europe. 

And then one day a letter came, it coincided with the news that the war in Europe was over, that Hitler was dead and the Germans had surrendered. At first you thought it would mean he’d be going to the Pacific, that he’d be shipped out again to finish the job...but that wasn’t it at all.

_Dear Y/N,_

_I just had to write this letter...I couldn’t not. They’re sending us back home, the war’s over in Europe and our company was the one they decided should just go home rather than to the Pacific...which is a relief. I can’t wait to come back, to be away from all this mess._

_But i’d like it even more if you’d meet me at the docks when the ship comes in...I can’t really give a proper date, but we’re shipping out tomorrow and the ship takes a few weeks to get to New York...maybe i’ll see you there?_

_With love,_

_Bucky._

A few weeks was now less than, the letter had taken more than enough time to come itself...and while no real date was given you figured that perhaps you could stand at the docks and wait, maybe you’d catch him on the right day. You didn’t want to miss him...and as scared as the prospect of meeting him made you it was all you wanted to do in that moment. All you wanted was to meet James, to see him face in real life for the first time, to hear his voice, and see his smile. You’d gone so long without meeting him, years. Literal years...you knew more about him then perhaps you knew about anyone else. You just wanted to meet him now.


End file.
